


Count the Stars as They Fall

by Nyomio



Category: Final Space (Cartoon)
Genre: Dadspeed, Dog!Mooncake, Everyone thinks Little Cato is a furry, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gary doesn't know what's happening, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quinnary mentioned but not focused on, Rated for swearing, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyomio/pseuds/Nyomio
Summary: Gary wouldn't quite call his life normal, but it's nothing extremely out there. Sure, he makes a living from stealing and the occasional heist, and sure, not too many people can say they destroyed 92 FBI agents' cars and a small family-owned Mexican restaurant before spending five years socially isolated in a special kind of hellish prison. Still, he's just a dude in a way-too-expensive run down New York City apartment living with his dog, Mooncake. That is, until he finds a kid (who might be in an orange fursuit) lying exhausted and drenched in an alleyway.Little Cato fought, fought so hard to keep his memories in tact. Invictus was trying to drag them away, to replace them with some bullshit about living on an version of earth from the past, but he refused to forget; he would not forget his Dads, his family, the Crimson Light; and when he woke up in the middle of Idaho, he only had one mission; go to New York City and find Gary.  He had to find him.[Sort of a modern AU!]
Relationships: Gary Goodspeed & Little Cato
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Count the Stars as They Fall

“Come on, Mooncake, boy! Let’s go play!” Gary shouts, bouncing it up and down in his hand. He hears a scramble from the bedroom as his little buddy - a large mutt of a puppy that has become a staple of the Goodspeed household (well, considering he is 50% of it…) comes scrambling out. The dog is panting with a wide grin, and his tail was wagging so hard he might as well have been using it as a weapon. Gary’s face reflects the sentiment. 

He hooks Mooncake’s leash to the collar and scrambles down his shitty apartment stairs, Mooncake in tow, and the two of them practically dart out the door, cheer written on their faces. They run almost in tandem down the street, the sunny day bearing down on them in perhaps the best way. It really was a beautiful day; seventy degrees, mid-april in the middle of New York City. There might be a thunderstorm brewing in the distance, but he thinks he can beat it! The wind rushes through Gary’s hair and Mooncake fur - oh yeah, if there was ever a better day for a dog park, it was today. 

They skirt to the entrance of the dog park. Gary unleashes Mooncake, holds the ball up in the air (it practically glimmers in the sunlight, as though it were on fire, or like, from a Legend of Zelda treasure chest), makes eye contact, and chucks that sonofabitch as far as it can go. He sees Mooncake zip through the dog park, back legs hardly keeping up, and then darting back towards him. Goddamn, he shoulda named this dog lightning, because-

-Oh, he’s on the ground. Mooncake tackles him, and he drops the ball on his chest. Gary can’t bring himself to be annoyed; there’s an adorable dog on him, and he knows this one of the ways Mooncake tries to hug him. He gives a soft, breathy laugh, before taking the ball and gently pushing Mooncake off. He gives Mooncake a scratch behind the ears, before chucking the ball as hard as he can once again. 

Mooncake takes off, and Gary leans against the fence, taking extra care to look cool as he does so. It’s not impossible that Quinn will show up again, and if she happens to pass by this dog park, he will be ready.

The puppy dashes up to him, but doesn’t tackle him this time. Gary throws it again. The puppy brings it back. Oh, yeah. Nuthin’ better than this.

That is, at least until his stomach starts rumbling. Oh boy, it’s been a little while since he ate. He throws the ball and takes out his wallet. Shit, that’s right. Rent was just due. He snaps his wallet shut and sticks it in his back pocket. Does he have any food left in the house? Nah, he doesn’t think so. Mooncake has food, but - he is not desperate enough to eat dog food. Not yet. Hopefully never again.

As Mooncake brings the ball back, Gary notices that his buddy is starting to look tuckered out, anyway. Gary smiles, pats him on the head, takes the ball and shoves it in his pocket. “Alright, I think we’ve played enough today, huh? How about we start headin’ home?”

Well, “start headin’ home” was correct. Gary is about to do what he’s best at - sneaking a few little sneaky fingers into people’s pockets and grabbing some money. Like a ninja! Or, like - like a Thunder Bandit?

Thunder Bandit? Huh, wonder where that came from? He likes it!

He bounces along, pup in tow. People usually don’t look at him twice with the puppy along for the ride; it makes it real easy to just sneak in there, or yoink! In there. Grabbin’ a couple of wallets; he pretty much only uses cash in there, since everything else is usually traceable, and Gary ain’t exactly pleadin’ to go back to prison, thank you very much. 

Well, sometimes things go wrong.

“Hey! You were trying to grab my wallet!” A man shrieks at him as his hands are inches away from his pockets. Ah, shit.

“What? No! Buddy, you’ve got the wrong idea,” Gary backpedals, putting his hands up.

“Yeah, then explain, pal, before I call the cops.”

“Well, friend, I was…” Gary starts, but eventually just shouts, “Mooncake, run!” and dashes off (a lot faster than earlier, mind you!) in the direction away from the guy who is threatening to call the cops. He is shouting after him, but Gary is used to making pretty sketchy escape attempts. He darts, runs, weaves through the crowd, and soon he doesn’t quite know where he is, but he knows the guy is gone, so he stumbles to a stop.

“Oh boy. Sorry, bud,” Gary gasps out, petting Mooncake on the head. “I didn’t expect that to go that wrong.”

Mooncake gives a little understanding yip, and Gary looks at his surroundings. He did manage to grab a couple of wallets, so if need be, he could probably call a taxi, but… he didn’t like spending money if he doesn’t need to, and he doesn’t think he’s too far out.

Yeah, he doesn’t know where he is in respect to his apartment…. And his phone isn’t on him. Did he drop it in the run? No, he’s pretty sure he left it home in his excitement earlier. Ah well, guess this is a good time for a walk! He, for one, knows how to get out of sketchy neighborhoods with the utmost of tact. 

He does, however, keep a tight grip on Mooncake’s leash as he begins to walk around. He looks up at the sky that’s fighting it’s way through the tall skyscrapers - damn, the sky sure did change fast today. The clouds were overhead now; he hears thunder start to rumble softly, and - oh, is that a raindrop on his nose? What’s that raindrop doing there?

He can feel the rain start to drop on his head, on Mooncake’s head, and then it begins to pour. Maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t grab his phone.

With the rain now slapping every surface in his body, he begins to run, desperately trying to find some shelter. He ducks in alleyways and streets and - and…

And Mooncake starts to yip, before pushing him in a direction he hadn’t been going before. “Whoa! Whoa, buddy, where are we going? What’s-”

Gary practically crashes into his dog as they come to a stop. He catches himself right before tangling himself in his dog’s feet, spends a moment trying to rebalance himself, and then looks up. “What’s up, boy? What did you…”

That is a crumpled up body of some sorts in an alleyway. Small, too. It… it kind of looks like a furry, or maybe a werewolf. Gary doesn’t really know what to make of it, but since Mooncake seemed so intent on looking, he walks a little closer.

If you ask him, he would level and say that he’s not sure what he’s looking at, but… but the feeling is painfully similar. He’s definitely looking at a child, no matter what; a child that looks sick, drenched in water, cold… the kid looks exhausted, and… and-

-and Gary knows what that feels like. Gary’s been there. He’s been abandoned and left on the streets and survived on food he’s found in the trash. He was alone for nearly thirty years; he… he can’t leave this kid like this and have a clear conscience, even if this kid was literally either a furry or a werecat. Maybe this would kill him. Eh, if he couldn’t pull if off in prison-

Yeah, he’s stopping that train of thought right there. He looks at Mooncake, before slowly grabbing the kid (Jesus, he’s light) up and carrying him in bridal style. “Hey, Mooncake, you think you can get us home? How good’s your sniffer?”

Mooncake barks, tail wagging a bit.

“Shoulda asked you earlier. Hell yeah. Lead the way, little buddy.”

Little Cato had been struggling.

No, he thinks struggling might be the wrong word. More accurately, he was one bad step away from a total meltdown for the past couple of weeks - maybe months, he’s not sure. One minute, he’s screaming, screeching - Invictus was there, the Lord Commander’s body was there, there were hundreds of Gary corpses trying to jump the ship. It was so loud; everything was so loud, and there was the scent of blood and oil and God knows what else. 

The next, everyone was gone - gone, swallowed into a hole formed by Invictus. He shouted, pleaded (was bitten by a Gary Zombie and zapped with Invictus power, which wasn’t great) and then shoved into it himself. 

It was as though he could feel his memories trying to slip away, but he held on, grasped, as hard as he absolutely fucking could. He wouldn’t forget, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he-

-and then he woke up face down on the ground with the most splitting headache he’s ever had. It was though there were two truths in his head battling for the top spot; the truth he remembered, and some involving the world he seemed to have been dropped into. He fought, he screamed, he, he-

A life on the streets? Like hell! He didn’t have the happiest upbringing, but he had a Dad! He had two Dads! He had two cool dads! He wouldn’t forget them, he wouldn’t-

And it was spotty, it was spotty but he could remember. He didn’t forget. He knew he couldn’t forget. He could remember Invictus and the Crimson Light. He could remember Quinn and Mooncake and HUE and Ash and, and-

And he remembered his Dads. He would not forget them. He wouldn’t. And he knew, he knew in the back of his mind, some half forgotten memory from the life that was being stripped away from him. New York City. Gary. He had to get there.

Turns out, that was not an easy task on a planet that, as he can gather from the memories half formed that had been trying to win out, was Earth hundreds of years in the past. No space travel. No one from outside the planet. Just humans and native life forms.

...Well, as he stumbled out of the alley of which is landed, it seemed like most people were just calling him a “fucking furry,” whatever that means. It meant that, while people seemed to be giving him weird looks (and you better believe he snarled back) no one seemed flustered enough to call the police or anything. He gathered he was in a place called “Idaho,” and - and there wasn’t really any way for him, looking how he does, to get to New York anyway but walking and stealing food to survive. So that’s what he did, with… varying degrees of success.

Sometimes people would approach him. He got asked a few times if he was, “Like, a werecat?” and he just ignored it. Fourteen years of straight calisthenics might have prepared his body for this physically, but in terms of food? Sleep? Dealing with the earth climate? He felt like garbage. But he trudged on - he couldn’t forget, he couldn’t. He had to make it to New York and find Gary Goodspeed. His Dad. He wouldn’t forget. 

The states passed - Iowa, Michigan, Pennsylvania. It was starting to get warmer; it probably took close to a month for him to get there, but if he’s being honest, he lost track pretty soon after he started, but he made it into NYC, and… it was so big. Oh God, it was really big.

Don’t get him wrong; it was nothing like what the future would hold. The buildings were large for this time, but nothing compared to what he can remember. That said, it was a big area with no pinpointed location; he didn’t even know where to start to look for Gary. He tried; he tried so hard. He hunted every corner he could, climbed up buildings (until the police showed up. Then he darted again…) and, and- it was like this world was trying to forcibly keep them apart. How the hell could he not find him in this entire damn city?! 

He collapsed in an alleyway, exhausted and feeling like ass. Little Cato thought he was going crazy; maybe those half formed memories never happened. Maybe - maybe it was just like what he thought he remembered from the time shards? It never happened; he just made it up from loneliness, and, and-

-and as the rain started to pour, he passed out. 

The next time he awoke, he was warm. In a bed. Confused. He smelled something, but he wasn’t sure what; it was food, but not familiar. He presses his palms against his face. Fuck, he’s such a failure, he can’t believe-

And then there’s a wet little tongue against his face. The hell?

Little Cato ripped his eyes open; he’s… he’s seen this earth creature before. He’s pretty sure they’re called dogs. He has no fucking clue where he is, but the dog is warm, and… and he still wishes it would stop licking his face. The bedroom doesn’t look familiar, the - well, why would it? He’s not even from this place, he doesn’t think. He hopes. He hopes he isn’t going crazy. 

The bedroom is kind of plain - white walls and very little decorations. The bed isn’t very comfortable, but it’s warm, warmer than Little Cato has been in weeks. He snuggles into it, and the dog rests his head in his lap. God, who the fuck would just grab a random kid off the street and dump him in his bed? Sounds like the kind of thing a dumbass would do.

“Oh, you’re awake!” He hears a frighteningly familiar voice yell. Wait… wait, he knows that dumbass.

He bolts up, causing the creature in his lap to yip, as he scrambles to look. From the kitchen, he can see - he sees that stupid poofy yellow banana hair he’s come to love, and wide eyes that - that-

“Dad,” Little Cato whispers, just loud enough to be heard. 

And it’s that moment that Gary’s eyes practically bulge out of his skull. “What? No, no, I’m not your - at least, I not that I know of…?” 

Little Cato pauses, before trying again. “...Gary?” Distraught is sneaking into his voice, but he can’t - did Gary forget, too? Is this even Gary? He can’t-

“Whoa, buddy. Deep breaths,” Gary steps in, forcing Little Cato to go along with it. In, out. In, out. In…

There’s a moment of silence, before Gary adds, “Yeah, I’m… I’m Gary.”

“You really don’t remember?” Little Cato forces out.

Gary motions with his hands, looking for something to say. “I don’t know what I’m even supposed to be remembering, kiddo.”

A broken sob forces its way out of Little Cato’s throat. He finally finds Gary, and he’s forgotten him! Just like his other Dad, just like - just like…

Invictus tried to make him forget, too, though. He didn’t succeed. Maybe it was that jolt of energy that he had right before he went in? Maybe it was his time in the time shard? He doesn’t know - he can’t remember, but… but… 

The creature starts to lick his face again, and Gary gives a little snort, before ushering it off. “Mooncake, down, buddy!” 

When hearing Mooncake’s name, Little Cato basically jostles to attention. “That’s Mooncake?” Little Cato whispers, looking a little closer at the creature. “Do you - do you remember me?” 

Mooncake cocks his head and scampers towards Gary. Honestly, Little Cato’s not even sure that’s his Mooncake, but….

“Whoa, how do you know Mooncake? And for that matter, how do you know me?” Gary asks, before glancing at the oven and back. Little Cato doesn’t even know how to answer, and his distressed look must have caught Gary’s attention. “Actually, scratch that for now, We’re eatin’ some freakin’ pancakes, and then we’ll figure it out!” 

Gary jumps over to near the pancakes, and Mooncake follows, panting. He hums to himself for a moment, and Little Cato takes the opportunity to get out of bed and try to put himself some semblance of together. Almost as though him doing so jarred some idea in Gary’s head, Gary shouts, “Oh! I meant to ask - so are you like, a furry, or are like... “

“Please, do not ask me if I’m a were-cat.”

“I wasn’t gonna. Definitely wasn’t gonna! Nope. But are you?”

Little Cato groans, before snapping, “No! I’m a Ventrexian! I don’t even know what a furry is!” 

“Ventrexian? ...So is that like, a codename for furries, or-”

“I’m an alien, Gary. Alien. From Ventrexia. Not a furry! I don’t know what that is!” 

Gary hums to himself, before saying, “I see I’ve offended you. Sorry, I’ve never talked with a cat person before.”

Little Cato is going to strangle either himself or Gary, for the love of-. “Ven-trex-i-an!”

There’s a short yelp, and in a moment of blind panic, runs over… only to find that, somehow, against all odds, all of the pancake batter has stuck to the ceiling. He’s not really sure what to make of that.

“...Is that supposed to happen?”

“No, I just… I tried to use my robot arm to flip it, and… uhhhhh…” Gary takes a second to compose himself, before clapping his hands together. “Well! Mooncake’s gonna have a hell of a day when those fall back down to earth! In the meantime… well, I’ve got some microwave breakfast burritos I was saving for lunch, but we’ll figure it out later! As long as that’s fine with you, kid?”

“Anything’s fine, Thunder Ban-Gary,” Little Cato breaks himself off.

Gary, eyes wide, shoots him a look, before silently grabbing the breakfast burritos and shoving them in the microwave. “Are you like a telepath? Is that your ‘alien’ power, or-” 

“What?”

“I’m just sayin’, I’ve called myself Thunder Bandit once, and it was in my brain. Did you get in my brain, you little… brain stealer?”

“No, it’s…” Little Cato flexes his fingers, “After we eat, right?” 

Gary’s gaze softens, and he returns to the microwave. “Alright, after we eat.”

And behind them, the pancakes fall, the microwave beeps, and Mooncake hightails it for all the goopy, half-baked pancake batter in the world.

“I’m just saying, I don’t think I follow,” Gary says, hands in his head, “Me? In space, fighting a demon named Invictus-”

“Titan-” Little Cato interrupts.

“Whatever. Like, don’t get me wrong, that sounds incredibly cool. Badass, even. And if that’s something that you did, then major props, kid. But I just… have a hard time imagining that.”

“That’s because Invictus wiped your memory when we landed here. I’m sure of it. He tried to wipe mine, too. It just didn’t work,” Little Cato pleads with him. “Please, you have to - you don’t remember anything at all?”

“Not a thing that you’re mentioning, no. I grew up here, and Mooncake is my little buddy who managed to sneak into the prison cell with me. Yes, you are! Yes-” And suddenly Gary is back all over his dog. God, he loves that dog.

He hears Little Cato take a deep breath, before saying, “Don’t you think… don’t you think your robot arm is a little suspicious, though?”

Gary pauses, before turning his head back to look at Little Cato, and then rolls up his sleeve to look at it. Yeah, just as gray and shiny as it’s always been. “I mean, I’ve had it as long as I can remember. Think I was born without an arm or something.”

“And have you ever had any repairs done on it? You think that arm grows with you? That it never would have any problems? And also, while I'm at it, it seems really high tech compared to everything else I’ve seen in this time. I don’t - you think someone now could’ve built an arm like this, Gary?” Little Cato basically implores.

And Gary comes up short. He’s - he’s never seen anyone… he’s… is that not how the arm works? Is that - has he never…

“Uh.. Gary?”

He feels a splitting headache coming on, and promptly all but smashes his face against the table.

“Gary?!”

“I’m good,” He says, but it’s muffled by the table. He was most definitely not okay. What the hell? He wasn’t prone to migraines, and this? This was a lot. This was too much. 

He can practically feel the doubt in the air from both his weird little orange alien friend and the dog who keeps him company. It’s almost like - it’s almost like there’s something there, just out of reach, but it won’t click, it won’t connect, it won’t - what is he missing? What’s just out of reach?

Sparks, the smell of blood… but he can’t put anything else there. It’s like - it’s like a flashback, but it’s as if his body is trying to violently reject it. Finally, he feels a touch (fuzzy, warm) on his back, and it jars him back to reality, just enough to see straight again.

Mooncake and Little Cato both look absolutely distressed, so Gary pinches his eyes shut and says, “It’s fine! It’s fine. That was just - that was just a little weird.”

Softly, almost with hesitance, Little Cato offers, “I wonder if you were remembering something? That’s how it felt when I was… when I got here.”

Gary looks at him a bit incredulously, before saying, “Maybe, but… but I definitely have memories of living here too, Little Cato. I don’t..” 

Little Cato looks at him, grabs his hand, and gives it a squeeze. Mooncake licks him comfortingly. It grounds him a bit from… whatever that was. Memory recall? Memory recall is hell, if so, but it… it does put a little more truth into this kid’s words. Maybe… maybe he was onto something. Maybe… 

Maybe he needs a cold shower. This is a lot brought on by some fluffball orange not-furry. Him hundreds, if not thousands, of years in the future surrounded by aliens and laser guns fighting off titans and zombie versions of himself? Yeah, that’s - that’s not something he wants to think about right now. He’s just gonna shove that into the box of not his immediate problem and ignore that. But like, he still needs a shower.

So, he stands up, excuses himself, does exactly that (trying not to look at those eyes that were - it was like there was hope trying to claw out, but it couldn’t quite manage to do so, and Gary can’t deal with that right now). The cold water feels like it’s scrubbing off the blood that he can’t quite remember, the sweat from a memory half-forgotten, and all the stress of whatever the fuck is about to happen.

Gary didn’t exactly have a normal life before, but - well, shit! Maybe he never had one! - but whatever semblance of normalcy he thought his life did have just pirouetted off a cliff into the land of what the fuck. 

As he steps out of the shower, he wraps a towel around himself and - realizes he forgot to grab clothes. Hm. Shit. He’s not used to not living alone. Making sure that shit was fastened tight (he is not about to flash a child, alien or no!), he strides out into the bedroom in which he sees his newest guest eying… is that a gun?!

“Should, uh, should you have that?!” Gary says, his voice an octave higher than usual. “If this was all a trick so you can rob me, there’s not exactly anything in here!” 

“Uh… I’m not gonna rob you. How did you think we were fighting the Titans, Gary? I was trying to see if I broke it, but…” Little Cato trails off as his eyes meet Gary’s stomach. “Oh. I was pretty sure before, but… you’re definitely my Gary, huh…?”

Not really sure how to decipher that, he risks a glance down, praying his junk stays under wraps. 

Oh, good. No “free willy” today. He slowly traces his eyes upward, and he sees… two scars he can’t quite remember getting. They look deep - maybe birthmarks he can’t remember? But - but he’s been alive thirty two years! He would remember birthmarks! Why can’t he - why can’t he… 

And the splitting headache is back. Of course. Thank you, friend. Really missed ya. Suddenly, this time, visions came flooding back; Little Cato and a man who looks somewhat like him fighting. The older man shoots him. Him pleading with - his friend, his best friend, his - and being shot again, and everything going dark, and-

And he leans forward with a gasp, grabbing his head. He can feel Little Cato and Mooncake there, but he feels like he’s about to throw up. He tries to make some noise of warning so they don’t get thrown up on, but it comes out garbled as he just, instead, falls (guidedly) onto his bed and clutches it until the pain passes. It has to pass. It will pass. If he’s gonna be in this much pain, maybe something else can come back to him? Like a futuristic cure on how to stop migraines? Nah, that’s too much. Gary bets even in the year 4001 they don’t fucking have a migraine cure. That’s his luck right now.

Finally with a gasp, he feels the pain start to ebb away. He feels the grip on his head loosen (Jesus, he has to be careful with his metal hand, or he really will just kill himself.) and he can slowly start to feel things again - like Little Cato with a shaking hand on his back, and he can hear Mooncake nervously yipping, and-

He slowly cracks his eyes open, sensory overload disappearing. “I remember- I remember being shot. I don’t know who shot me. You were there. You were protecting me,” Gary whispers. Finally, things are clear enough he could just make it out. Little Cato looks at him, eyes shining (but concern still leaving his eyebrows furrowed) and Mooncake jumping on the bed and licking his face. Gary grins and pets him back.

“Is that it? Did anything else come back?” Little Cato asks, voice hardly louder than his own, thankfully.

“No. That’s all I can remember.”

Little Cato looks a little disappointed, but obliges, “The man who shot you. It was… my other Dad, but possessed by Invictus. He’s been following us for a little while.”

“Ah. That’s the legend himself. Invictus,” Gary grumbles, before standing up, smacking his hand on the table and declaring with all the bravado he can muster, “Well, he’s a freakin’ dicknugget!” 

His (son, apparently??) reels back for a moment, before laughing, his voice almost… is he purring? Oh my God, please tell Gary this kid is purring. 

And then the tears start trickling out. Oh, okay. Maybe before he lost his memories he would’ve known how to handle this situation - apparently, he was a kickass space captain, which he isn’t complaining about - but as of now? Yeah, he doesn’t have a clue. There’s just a sobbing child in front of him who is apparently his, and- uh… you know? Fuck it.

Gary wraps the kid in a hug, and he feels the kid start wetting up his sleeve. Mooncake tries to join in, but it doesn’t exactly go very well. Gary and Little Cato both giggle a little at that, before Little Cato relaxes and pulls out. He looks tired, but happy. 

“You are my Gary. I’m not crazy, I’m not - I do remember this time.”

With a pause, Gary says, “Yeah, I guess so. We’ll figure out what to do, piece by piece, kid.” 

As they pull away, almost on impulse, Gary ruffles Little Cato’s hair, which causes a loud but cheerful meow from the kid as he pulls away. Gary laughs, “Oh my God, you sure you ain’t a were-cat?”

“Shut,” Little Cato hisses, but without much malice, “Up.” 

In a moment of self reflection, Gary goes, “Huh. Space Captain Gary? I can get used to that. Always knew I was pretty freakin’ sweet, even if-” And then he cuts himself off. 

Wait, how much of his memory is fabricated, then? His Dad, his mom, his… is Mooncake…? 

Alright. Yeah. he’s. He’s going to just avoid the subject for now. Save that breakdown when he’s not, apparently, in front of his child. His child. His child, which is an alien. 

“Okay, I think I’m going to freak out if we sit and think about this any longer, so here’s what I’m proposing. We take a break from this. We go play some Mario Kart or something. Then, we figure it out from there, okay?” Gary interrupts his own thoughts to say.

“What the hell is Mario Kart?”

Gary’s face breaks out in the biggest, shit-eating grin. “Oh, you’re about to find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh hi im back on my bullshit again  
> it is *checks watch* 5:21 am and I have been up all night. do i nap or do i keep pluggin' through and pull an all nighter? yet to be seen  
> okay so i just really want to write with these characters, and i really wanted to have fun with a modern au. this is what i came up with. we'll see how it goes! :^D  
> also i was genuinely trying to figure out how people would react to seeing Little Cato wandering around, and I'm convinced most people would think he was a furry in a really good suit. i'm sorry if that joke isn't funny to anyone else, but i crack myself up and that's what's important.  
> also dadspeed ty for you time


End file.
